


Preying on Praying Prey

by icycas



Series: SFW [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Action, Angst, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Chases, Corruption, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Hunter Dream, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Minecraft Manhunt, More tags will be added later to avoid spoilers, Mystery, Prey George, Reincarnation, Revenge, Survival Horror, Suspense, Swearing, Thriller, Tragic Romance, Violence, dtao3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25948987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icycas/pseuds/icycas
Summary: After slaughtering every useless toy in his world, Dream finally has a new doll to play with. George, the only prey who has been able to give Dream a proper chase, is forced to play the other boy’s little game of cat and mouse in order to survive. The race is on. Can George beat the world before Dream kills him and makes him a part of his collection of rare trophies?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), dreamnotfound - Relationship, gream - Relationship
Series: SFW [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081463
Comments: 61
Kudos: 491





	1. Prologue

George panted, adrenaline panting as he wildly whipped his head around to check his surroundings. His breathing was irregular and loud from the sprinting, but he summoned all his will power to steady his breath. If he continued breathing at this volume, he’d give away his position.

_ One. _ Breathe in, calm down, and imagine you’re on the beach.

_ Two. _ Breathe out. You’re somewhere else, you’re content, you’re happy. 

_ Three- _

“Oh George~ You’re not as good as hiding your tracks as you think you are!” George stilled, feeling all color in his face drain as he started shaking.  _ This is the end, I’m going to die in a fucking field and no one will know. _

George felt his legs give out as he collapsed in the tall grass, cold sweat taking over. The boy couldn’t move and was forced to listen to the footsteps getting closer and closer. Dream was probably only about 10 paces away from reaching the brunette, which meant 10 paces until his inevitable death. 

* * *

_ Ten. _ Dream grinned as he took his sweet time, whistling a haunting tune.

_ Nine.  _ The boy poked at the tip of his arrow, drawing blood from his fingertip. He watched the crimson liquid slowly drip down and contour the lines of his finger before bringing it to his mouth to lick a long stripe, relishing in the rusty iron taste filling his mouth. 

_ Eight.  _ Dream imagined how sweet George’s blood would be; how beautiful the boy would look covered in it. Dream shivered at the thought, grinning maniacally. 

_ Seven.  _ The dark oak haired boy would beg underneath his sword, tears streaming down his pretty face as he cried for Dream to spare his life, for mercy, for a god he didn’t believe in anymore. He would squirm under the blonde’s hold, trying everything in his power to escape. He’d probably have a trick up his sleeve. Maybe he would have a last ditch effort to stab the taller boy to try and slow him down, but the careless and futile action would only stir Dream on further. 

_ Six.  _ What would he take as a memento of the boy’s meaningless life? A lock of hair? Too cliche. An eye? That is one of Dream’s favorite parts of George – the transparent nature of the boy’s emotions that would always reflect through the window of his soul. Hmm.. perhaps he would keep an eye.

_ Five. _ Clay tossed the compass lightly up in the air, catching in gracefully and laughed. The boy could hide as much as he’d like, but this little device would always stick to his location like glue.

_ Four.  _ The air had never smelled sweeter. The crisp night air was filled with the sweet scent of Casa Blanca Lilies wafting through the air. This is indeed a cause for celebration, the boy laughed to himself. 

_ Three.  _ The taller boy unsheathed his sword, playfully swinging it in the air. The game was just about to start.

_ Two.  _ He felt himself grin impossibly big as he wiped the now dried blood covering his sword on to his leather gauntlet. Preparing to swing at the boy behind the tree, Dream tightened his hands on the iron sword’s grip. He winded up by bringing the blade to his side, giving himself momentum as he prepared to strike with one fell swoop. 

_ One. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New series! I'm trying something new so pls have patient with me as I expand the genres I write about. Also disclaimer that this series will not be updated as regularly as TION because I'm trying to plan more of what I write. It will definitely be updated at least once a week though!


	2. The Beginning of the End

George cracked his sore joints as he arched his back with his thumbs rested on the small of his back, letting out a pleased sigh. Cutting down wood was hard work, but it needed to be done. The boy had traveled far from what he had considered home to start anew. The villagers offered him company and safe lodgings, but the boy thirsted for adventure and something akin to danger.

He was on a mission to find the most elusive structure to exist: the Woodland Mansion. Villagers from far and wide would whisper about the hidden building in hushed tones, shivering at even the thought of the “creatures” which lived inside. Anyone who wished to venture off in an attempt to discover the mysterious mansion’s location never returned. If the brazen adventurers were lucky, their legacy and belongings could be found by traveling merchants. From what George was able to gather, by the rare chance that someone was able to stumble on the scattered belongings, there was never a trace that anyone had ever even owned the items. No body, no footprints, no nothing. One consistency that was said to be connected was the Woodland Mansion map found at each of these mysterious disappearances. It had been incredibly difficult for George to track down a merchant who carried the cursed map, but he finally came across one after bribing a traveling merchant. Once he got his hands on the infamous map, George started on his long journey out. After about a year of constant traveling, the boy had made it two-thirds of the way, and decided to stop for a few months to start a new base. 

Wiping his brow of sweat, he piled the wood onto his mule, slowly making his way back to his temporary cabin. The sun was quickly seeping past the horizon, and filled the sky with brilliant salmon, angry vermilion, and soft coral. The adventurer admired the blanket of clouds in the sky as he languidly rode the mule back. Nearing the location of his house, the boy caught a whiff of something familiar. The smell conjured up comforting memories of a warm campfire – logs burning with a rich and mellow cedar scent – but something about the context of this fire made George’s hair stand. Something in the air wasn’t right, and as George got closer to his cabin, he heard the hiss of a large fire. Looking past the trees, he saw black and grey particles dancing in the air, with crackles of bright yellow embers illuminating the now midnight blue sky. The sputter and snap of wood collapsing and burning could now be heard clearly, and George jumped off his mule to run to the sight. His cabin was completely ablaze, fire raging to the sky. 

The brunette stood dumbfounded. There was no way for a natural fire to start, it wasn’t nearly hot enough, and the fact that only his house was on fire pointed to something more sinister. _Arson_. George’s mind raced, trying to pin down any possible motives or even creatures he had made himself an enemy to, but his mind was blank. No intelligent creature had ever crossed the boy’s path, not even pillagers, so what was this? The boy didn’t want to stick around to find out, and got back on the mule as he rode away. He gave one last glance to his almost completed home as he rode off, and something shiny flashed at him from the corner of his eye. Curious, but cautious, the boy hopped off the mule to investigate the source. Walking closer, the boy could see that the object was a potion. The luminescent liquid sloshed, shifting between a light pink and a deep magenta. George had never seen this potion in his life, and when he went to open up the cork, particles in the shape of a dragon escaped the bottle, before evaporating into the air.

 _What? The Ender Dragon? No one had been to The End for a century, how was this possible?_ George palmed the potion, turning it in his hand. This was undeniably a potion of Dragon’s Breath, but based on villager gossip, the last player died in The End before they could defeat the Ender Dragon. Possible explanations began running through the brown eyed boy’s mind in a frenzy, but he was snapped back to reality at the familiar sound of taut string striking against the air and the thwip of an arrow. 


	3. Meeting the Menace

Throwing himself to the ground, George slid across the juniper green grass as he dodged the arrow. Running on full adrenaline, the boy hopped back up on his feet to assume a defensive position as he unsheathed his sword and held up his shield. His eyes searched the surroundings of any movement, shifting from left to right with furious speed as he backed up slowly. At the rustle of some leaves, the boy hid behind the shield and felt the impact of an arrow hit.

An ambush? Maybe there was a pillager after him? No, pillagers always traveled in groups, this had to be a person – _a player_ – which means they stood to be reasoned with. George ponders whether or not he wanted to make himself more known, but finally decided it might be his only hope.

“I know you’re a player! I just want to talk!” George shouted into the night, shaking behind the shield. Listening intently, the panicked boy heard a light chuckle. 

“ _Smart_. I like that. Maybe I’ll keep you around~” the voice said back humorously. 

So maybe they didn’t stand to be reasoned with. George thought of all the possible ways to escape. The person had a bow, so unless George was confident with his equestrian abilities, he would never be able to get away on the slow mule. He could try and fight the figure head on, but judging by the source of the voice, they had the high ground. His best option was to run, and hope the trees blocked the shots. The boy took a deep breath, preparing for a chase, before sprinting off into the forest. Above him, he could hear the sounds of rustling leaves.

 _Who was this person jumping through trees? They must be an experienced player to be able to hop from the branches without falling or slipping._ George felt sweat drip down his neck as he heard the arrows whistling past his ear while he dodged the shots. When the onslaught of arrows died down, George was sure that the person had run out. He knew that they couldn’t run forever, and decided to muster up the courage to fight.

 _Because the player was running through the trees, if they reached an open field, it would be more than likely that they would try to get a fatal blow onto me by slashing at my back while running by jumping down._ The brunette sprinted into the open field, turned around, and held up the shield. As predicted, the person took the bait and slashed at George’s shield. Using the barrier as a weapon, the pale boy used the shield to knock the figure to the ground. Pulling back the shield to go on the offense, George could now see the figure as they stumbled back from the blow. 

A boy. A boy with dirty blonde hair peeking out under the eerie mask he was sporting. The mask was a worn out white with a smiling face painted on; scratch marks and vertical incisions littered the mask from what George could only assume was from close combat. 

“Ah~ I haven’t had this much fun in so long. You’re quite the catch, aren’t you George?” the boy said. George froze. He never spoke his name, not even to the villagers, so how did this stranger know it?

“Oh, I’m being rude aren’t I? My name’s Dream. I want you to remember so that when you beg me to spare your life, I can make sure my name is the last word on your lips before I slash open your throat.”

“What the fuck?” George was horrified at how bold this Dream guy was. 

“Surprised? That’s okay, we’re just getting started,” Dream laughed as he charged towards George before giving a heavy blow. George blocked, but the force against his shield knocked him down. _Fuck,_ he didn’t want to have to use up his only ender pearl, but it looks like if he wants to survive, he would need to toss it. Looking to the mountain just behind the boy now preparing to drive the sword down, George threw with as much strength as he could and braced for impact. The second he felt his knees hit the ground, he got back up and ran in the opposite direction of the combat site.

From below, Dream slipped off the mask to admire the boy sprinting away. Now _this_ is fun. 


	4. Four Centuries

_It’s been so long._ For an entire century, Dream would check his compass every day to see if the red arrow taunting him would finally lock onto someone; for a century, the jade eyed boy would patiently wait for a new thrill, but to his disappointment, each day ended exactly how it had begun. But his patience had paid off, because a year ago, his compass finally began to spin again. 

Dragging his index finger along the dark oak wall, the boy admired his trophies. Shards of sparkling glass, a golden pocket watch, and an ivory toned skull. Each of these prey were _fine_ , but in the end, Dream was always left disappointed. The hunt is only fun if the deer is still alive, after all. But things were looking up for the freckled boy, because if his observations served correct, this new fawn was different. Maybe it was the way the boy fearlessly took on one of the most dangerous missions without a second though, or maybe it was the way he would train until he collapsed out of exhaustion – perhaps the boy was fearless, perhaps stupid, or perhaps, even both – but regardless, Dream couldn’t get the brunette out of his mind. 

Admiring the shattered glass, Dream recalled his memories of this prey. He had potential, but ultimately, he failed Dream like all the others. This boy was a natural born alchemist; he had some interesting tricks up his sleeve, but none of them proved deadly or clever enough to be fatal. His favorite fight with the brewer was when Dream had first discovered his skills. After tracking the alchemist to a village, the blonde boy was able to set up an elaborate trap to drown the other boy in a glass cage. Dream had been looking forward to watching the life leave the alchemist's eyes, but when the boy inevitably stumped on the hidden trapwire, he was able to splash a potion of water breathing and mining to break through the thick glass. Dream, shocked at how his plan was foiled so fast, watched as his little doll slipped away. After discovering his hidden skills, Dream had felt excited to see what their final battle would have in store. After cornering the alchemist, it should have been clear that Dream was on the losing side. The other boy had stacked on every imaginable potion effect and two hits with his sword could kill Dream, but unfortunately for the brewer, he was a terrible fighter. Dream was able to kill the boy, and was left with just a large slash across his chest, nothing fatal. It was thanks to this little prey that the hunter was able to learn the potion recipes. 

Picking up the golden pocket watch and rubbing his thumb across the inscription on the back, Dream smiled. _The engineer_. The redstone fanatic had Dream matched in terms of excitement. The boy would be intoxicated with delight each time Dream tracked him down, and called the freckled boy his little “guinea pig.” Using the most outlandish traps, he was able to inconvenience Dream significantly. There was never a dull moment with the engineer, as he made every fight unique and entertaining. Once again, however, his traps could only be classified as annoying at best, and it didn’t take Dream long before he grew tired of the lack of action. While the other boy was setting up a trap one day, Dream shot an arrow straight through his neck, ending their game in a matter of seconds. The boy was far too careless for his own good, and it irritated Dream. He needed a better thrill. He needed a proper chase. He needed a hunt. 

Dream picked up the skull that hung from the wall to run his fingers along the grooves of the bone and reminisced on his first prey. If he was being honest, he didn’t remember much about this one. Time had passed, and he supposed his memory had slipped from being in this world for so long; but what he _did_ know was that this trophy was his favorite. The only lingering memory of this little fawn was how many emotions the final chase had made him feel. 

All three of these little dolls were disappointing to the very end, and Dream was thirsting for something more. Looking at the empty slot on his wall, he could feel excitement take over him. The slot was begging for it’s new addition, and Dream couldn’t wait to fill his collection once more.


	5. Dice Out

George had been on the run without a break for two days now. The boy was two seconds short of a complete mental breakdown, and his heart felt like it was beating out of his throat. Leaning against a tree, he tried to compose himself for a second.

Wiping his sweat, he took out his map. He was _so close_ to the Woodland Mansion. If he hadn’t been interrupted, the brunette probably could have gotten there in a few months, but that plan was out the window, because this _psychopath_ chasing him seemed to have other ideas. 

The brunette felt like he was all out of options. He could continue to the mansion, but who knows if he would ever make it, or if there would even be anything waiting for him there. He could also try and play along with this Dream player, but it was clear that even if he could battle the other boy, Dream seemed to be a very... _worthy_ opponent, to say the least.

George felt like he stood no chance. He sighed, knowing that he only had one option left. He didn’t want to resort to such perilous means, but it seemed like he had no other choice. He would need to beat the Ender Dragon. He would need to complete the world and leave. If he died along the way… George didn’t want to think about what could happen. But if he didn’t leave as soon as possible, then he would eventually die painfully at the hands of the hunter.

Taking a deep breath in to compose himself, the boy took his sword out. I need to survive… I _will_ survive. Finding the nearest grazing livestock, George began to collect as much food as he could. Next stop… the _Nether_. George was incredibly reluctant to go so soon, especially since the most protection he had was iron.

 _I just… need to think positive thoughts,_ George thought to himself. _At least I know how to get to the Nether..._

The brown eyed boy had stumbled upon a few ruined portals before, gaining the knowledge of how the structure was built, but he had never traveled to the other dimension, and was completely unsure of what to expect. 

Looking into his bag, the boy looked at the six diamonds he had collected. It was enough to make a variety of useful items, but the boy stuffed the iridescent gems back into his back, deciding that saving them might be best for now. Recalling the memory of Dream in his mind, George was able to remember that the other boy only had iron armor as well. That, at very the least, reassured the boy.

Not wanting to waste any more daylight, George began digging down in an attempt to make a hidden camp. With the amount of wool he collected, he could sleep through the night to prepare for his treacherous trip to the Nether. Running into some iron along the way, the boy dug it up and began to set up for the night. Letting the ores smelt, he laid down on his makeshift bed and thought about his plan, trying to drift into sleep as the warm fire from the furnace licked at the air. 

If he remembered correctly, there was a type of mob he needed to get blaze rods from. The boy just couldn’t recall what the entity looked like, but he remembered their importance for his journey to beating the end. He just hoped that after seeing the creature, his memory would kickstart.

 _Stupid ass selective memory,_ George thought to himself, frustrated. 

The game worked in mysterious ways, but one of the most infuriating features was the memory wipe. After joining each world, a large majority of the knowledge of the game is wiped, allowing players to experience each game like the first time they played. It was really just based on luck if a player would be able to remember the more important details. For example, the Nether layout would have been _really nice_ to remember right now.

The boy tossed around in the pile of plush wool. Lucky for him, some of his memories were able to resurface thanks to certain triggers. The first time he came across a ruined portal, a white hot flash came over him as he remembered building the portal in another world. The memory was hazy, but he _did_ remember looking down blaze rods in his hand and thinking about going to the end. 

Snuggling up into his jacket, the boy drifted off to sleep, running through possible scenarios in his head for what was to come in the future.


	6. Dear God

Waking up groggy, the brunette stretched his limbs in the mess of wool before getting up. Collecting his resources, the boy climbed out of his makeshift shelter to begin his day’s journey to find a lava pool and subsequently go to the Nether. 

It didn’t take long before George heard the familiar popping of the hot magma. Walking over to the aquamarine water sloshing in the river just down the hill, the boy scooped up as much as he could in his bucket before hiking back up the hill to start work on the portal. Cupping his rough hands, George began to cool the lava down to make the obsidian structure. 

By the time he was done, the boy was drenched in sweat from the heat radiating from the magma, and the sun was starting to set again. Looking at the completed portal, he took a deep breath before using his flint to create a spark. In a fantastic burst of light, purple enveloped George’s vision, blinding him for a second. The boy was knocked down to the ground from the force and power of the portal, and when he got back up in awe, he experimentally stuck his hand into the purple particles. The sensation felt like no other. His hand felt like it was liquified. 

Stepping into the portal, the boy stood in amazement. As his vision was overtaken by a purple haze and a deafening sound, the brunette suddenly felt a sharp pain bloom along his back. Confused, George dragged a hand under his armor and loose shirt to find that his palm was covered in blood. Horrified, he quickly jumped out of the portal, landing on the loose sand as his vision was struggling to adjust. Stumbling to get on his feet, George felt the pain on his back start to sting more, and he couldn’t help but wince as he pulled out his sword.

At the sound of an object slashing through air, George drew his sword forward to block the hit. He could now see Dream standing in front of him, mask ominously taunting George. Grunting, George used all his power to break the standoff between the blades, watching as sparks flew from the two iron swords gliding against one another.

Using brute strength, Dream began to hack at George’s raised sword that he was using as a shield. Quickly losing strength in his arms from trying to block the powerful hits, George wasn’t able to defend against one of Dream’s hits, causing Dream to land a hit on his right shoulder. Even though the brown eyed boy had an iron chest plate that covered his shoulders, the sheer force of the iron blade caused the brittle metal to cave in. Crying out, George forced himself to pull away from the fight, resorting to running.

 _Fuck,_ George thought to himself as he searched the area for somewhere to hide. Spotting a lone tree with tall grass and colorful flowers littering the floor, George made a beeline for the area. The boy had no idea how bad either of the cuts were because he didn’t have enough time to inspect them, but based on the amount of blood that was covering his hand back there, he could assume that he didn’t have long before fainting if he didn’t treat it. 

Jumping behind a tree, the boy slumped down, trying to steady his thoughts as his mind raced for a plan of escape. _How the hell did it end up like this,_ George thought to himself, feeling his head spin at the mix of emotions coursing through him. _I ran for literal days straight, how did he catch up so fast?_

The boy could hear the footsteps getting closer, and he knew he was pressed for time. 

“Oh George~ You’re not as good as hiding your tracks as you think you are!”

 _A plan, a plan, a plan! Why the hell can’t I think of anything?_ George’s head was racing, feeling like it was about to implode. 

Digging through his bag, the boy looked through his random assortment of items as his mind ran through every crafting recipe he knew. Gasping, George had an epiphany as he recalled his time back at the village during its annual festival. _For the love of everything holy, please let this work,_ George prayed as he threw the ingredients down on his lap, hurriedly coating the stark white feather from his bag into the bottle of gunpowder.

Breathing picking up as the footsteps started to ring through his ears, George scrambled to grab the red flower in front of him. The boy picked the stem off with his shaking hands before grinding the delicate petals between his fingers to cover them in the crimson paste. Coating the feather, George grabbed the paper from his lap to wrap the feather around a piece of paper.

Hearing the sound of an eerie whistle, George could have sworn his heart stopped in that moment. Dream couldn’t have been more than a few feet away now, which meant that George only had mere seconds to finish. 

At the cue of a light chuckle from Dream, George sprung into action, not wanting to waste any more precious time. George felt his eyes well from how petrified he was in that moment. _If this doesn’t work… I’m dead._

When George peaked around the corner to see Dream winding up for a final blow, he said one last prayer before pulling his one and only ender pearl from his pocket and throwing it with all his might back towards the Nether portal before smashing the explosive firework to the floor.

Just in time, George escaped without getting burned from the volatile explosion, and instead fell on his knees from the impact of the ender pearl. George knew from a little firework mishap during the celebration at the village that those explosions at close range were nearly deadly, and Dream would have to slow down to patch up his burn wounds from being hit directly with one.

Crawling over to the portal, George huffed as he pulled out the gauze in his bag. Slipping off his armor, the boy winced. Because of the adrenaline from the chase earlier, he didn’t have the time or room in his mind to process just how painful the incisions were, but now that he was getting a look at the damage, he realized how bad it was.

If Dream’s aim was a little more precise, he could have killed George by slashing into his main vein. Instead, the cut had dug into his shoulder bone, and looking at the ghastly laceration had the boy’s stomach churning. Swallowing down the bile rising from his throat, the boy wrapped the gaze as tight as possible around his shoulder, making a loop around his torso for extra support. Feeling the cut along his back, he could feel that it wasn’t nearly as deep as he thought it was. Grimacing, the brunette made a couple of rounds with the gaze around his abdomen and chest. After he finished wrapping, he slipped his armor back on. George couldn’t help but let a whimper escape as he slipped the armor around his right shoulder, the sensation so painful that it felt like Dream had left his sword lodged in. His shoulder would need stitches once he was in a safer enclosed area, but he was thankful nevertheless that he was alive and that his left shoulder was left unharmed.

Getting up to go through the portal, the boy spotted a golden pocket watch lying in the sand exposed. Picking up the watch, George inspected the item, feeling the weight in his hand. _Dream must have dropped this._

Looking at the back, the boy squinted at the faint inscription on the back with confusion. _Was that a ‘C’ or a ‘D?’ Or possibly a ‘Q?’_ It was hard to tell, but knowing that it must have come from Dream, it would make the most sense for it to be ‘D.’ Shoving the memento into his pocket, the boy started on his long journey into the Nether.


	7. Nether Here Nor There

Walking back into his Nether base, the boy peeled off his armor and shirt to inspect his healing wounds. Thankfully, he had killed a witch during his travels in the overworld and obtained a regeneration potion to help speed up his healing. Unfortunately though, it wasn’t enough to fully seal up the cuts. The wound on his shoulder was still in a concerning state, and would require daily care. Pouring some of his alcohol over the cut, the boy winced from the stinging sensation, letting out a strained groan. The caustic burn felt as if a million needles were being dug into his flesh all at once, and he couldn’t help but writhe at the immense pain. Trying to steady his breathing, George grabbed his needle and spindle of thread from his bag. He held the needle over the flame on the netherrack beside him, dipped it into the alcohol, and wiped it on a clean cloth to try and sterilize the needle as much as possible. 

_ This is gonna hurt like a bitch, _ George thought to himself with a grimace. Threading the string through the eye of the needle and knotting it securely, the brunette took a deep breath before bringing the needle up to the deep cut on his shoulder and forced the sharp tip into his flesh. The boy’s hands were shaking from the pain, but he powered through to finish and get it over with.

By the time he was done, sweat was dripping down his back from how hard he was concentrating. George wiped the stitched wound with more alcohol, trying to think happy thoughts to get his mind off of the throbbing pain. Once he finished dressing the wound back up with clean gauze, the mahogany eyed boy got up from the ground and dusted himself off.

He needed to get out of this hell hole as fast as possible, and getting blaze rods was his number one priority if he wanted to to avoid getting stuck in the Nether.

Sheathing his sword and throwing his bow and shield over his shoulder by the straps, the boy gathered his belongings and began his journey around the vastness of the Nether. 

Fortunately for the luck starved boy, George had stumbled across a Fortress relatively fast. It took a few hours of trekking through dangerous territories, but the sight of a well constructed structure (one which could only be built by intelligent creatures) was both a welcome and a terrifying sight for the adventurer. 

George stood in front of the towering structure that stretched ominously into the bleak ceiling. Gulping, the boy grabbed onto the protruding bricks and began to scale the structure. 

_ Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down.  _ He had already gotten about five meters off the ground before the nerves and height got to him. George  _ hated _ heights, and he would almost rather go through the fight with Dream again over climbing the Fortress.  _ Almost.  _

Accidentally peeking down as he watched his footing, George felt himself go lightheaded and bile rise up his throat. If he miscalculated a step, he could easily slip and crack his head open on the hard Nether floor. Stopping to compose himself and swallow down the nausea, George pressed himself as close to the maroon bricks as they would allow. Practically embedded into the wall at this point, he closed his eyes. 

_ Come on, there’s no backing down now.  _ Forcing himself to grip the next brick with shaking hands, George used his strength to pull himself up to the next set of steps. 

The pale boy made it up a majority way, and there was less than a meter left. Feeling brazen, George sped up his movements, scaling the wall with a newfound vigor. Just as he was about to throw himself over the brick fences, the brittle brick he stepped on top of crumbled. Blood draining from his face, George began to scramble for purchase along the walls while his left hands gripped the two bricks he was holding for dear life. Whining, the boy felt the stitches on his right shoulder begin to tug from the tension. If he didn’t act soon, he would tear the stitches and have to redo them all over again… not to mention he would lose strength and plummet down. Even with his leather bag and weapons weighing him down, George mustered up the power to pull himself up. He grunted, clenching his teeth through the pain as he grabbed the fence with his left hand and steadied a foot against the wall. Pulling himself to the edge of the crimson fence, George jumped over it and collapsed onto the floor.

Laying on the warm floor, the boy didn’t care about any of the deadly mobs in the fortress. He needed a moment to himself.  _ Fuck, I just can’t catch a break. _

Getting back on his wobbling feet, George began to explore the fortress. Along the way, he found a few interesting mobs, but none which triggered his memory.  _ Blaze rods… surely the mob has to do with fire. _ Perhaps the mob should have been easy to spot, but with the sound of crackling flames and popping lava filling the entire dimension, it was hard to pinpoint a mob which would potentially be related to the rising flames.

Turning a corner without checking, George caught a glance of something in his peripheral. Whipping his head around quickly, George stared. The mob was a striking yellow, so intense against the dull maroon brick that it stood out like a star in the night sky. In a flash, a bright hot vision clashed into George. Images bursted through his mind, a fast slideshow of him crushing the floating appendage of the Blaze and coating an ender pearl. 

Holding his head, George turned back around behind the corner and pressed against the wall to avoid the onslaught of fireballs being thrown at him. Grabbing his shield, the boy peaked around the corner again to test the waters.

The Blaze shot again, hitting the shield with a thud. George turned back around his corner and began to come up with a strategy, but just to make sure, the boy stuck his shield out around the corner again, and sure enough, the Blaze shot after a few seconds.

_ It seems like they can only fire about four shots before they can attack again, _ the pale boy thought to himself.  _ Which means, all I need to do is time my attacks. _

Jumping into the line of attack, George blocked the shots before slashing the mob in front of him. It didn’t take many hits before he was able to kill the Blaze, but before George could collect all of the fallen limbs, the remains began to combust. George dived forward and saved two of the blaze rods before they were able to disappear. 

The brunette continued like that for a while, and it didn’t take long for George to be able to grab about 15 of the limbs and crush them into the powder form for better storage. Feeling proud, the boy explored the fortress even more, taking in the sights and looting whatever he could. Unfortunately, most of the chests were empty or had trash items in them.

_ I’m not the first one here then, _ he thought to himself. He supposed it did make sense, considering it was obvious that Dream had been occupying this world for a while now. What the boy  _ did _ find weird, was how there had been a pair of dried blood trails that began from the Blaze nest. Curious, George tracked the trails, which ended at stairs surrounded by a strange plant. George mindlessly picked at them as he looked at the floor below the first step. Concentrating, the boy tried to conjure up a story of what had happened.

Two very distinctly different blood trails next to each other that just stop at the stairs? There would be no reason for one person to do a lap from the stairs and back around to the nest as they were losing blood, even if they didn’t get enough materials. You’d want to patch up first. 

George pondered the possibilities as he plopped down on the stairs. He knew it must have been Dream at this fortress, so what would Dream have been doing? It would be unlikely that he injured both hands, which would be the only explanation for the two trails next to each other. The other fighter only ever struck with his right hand, and the hunter was a skilled fighter. What’s more likely is… there were two people here at some point, and they both got injured. The boy looked down at the trail leading right to him, and the scene was almost clear as day to him. While fighting the Blazes, Dream and someone else got injured, they escaped to the stairs, and sat to patch up together. 

The brunette furrowed his brows. Every encounter George has had with Dream, it was clear he was alone, and considering the boy’s… interesting hobby…. George had a hard time believing that he had a partner in crime that was just hiding in the shadows. But the story didn’t add up. Assuming it was Dream in this fortress, he was accompanied by someone. Someone he considered friendly enough to walk to safety with them while they were both in a compromised position. 

Does that mean… his partner… disappeared at some point? They must have been on their way to The End, judging by the fact they were gathering blaze rods. So it means that his accomplice must have disappeared some time between getting the blaze rods in the Nether and before getting into The End.

But the potion of Dragon’s Breath that George had found… that part still didn’t make any sense. The Dragon was still very much alive if the villager gossip was correct. George tried his best to come up with any explanation, but his mind was fried. Sighing the chocolate haired boy got up, deciding that this little puzzle was not worth his mind capacity at the moment. Looking over the edge of the fence protecting him from plummeting down, George gulped.

_ Well… time to go back down.  _


	8. Two Sides of a Coin

When George finally made it to his Nether base, the boy plopped down on the ground to breathe a sigh of relief. It may have been a premature victory, but George was just glad to have made so much progress. On his way back, he was able to trade with some of the Piglins. After being chased down by a few for a few minutes, George had mistakenly dropped a gold ingot while trying to grab a weapon. The Piglins had rushed the ingot like pigeons to a crumb of bread, and George quickly realized that the creatures had a strange admiration for the lustrous metal. After trying his hand at trading, he ended up with an odd assortment of items and 10 ender pearls. It definitely wasn’t enough, but it was good for now. 

George peered down at the various items he had amassed from the trades and began to sort though what could be helpful. He took the fire resistance potion, fire charges, and chunks of obsidian. Opening his bag to stuff the items in, George realized that he had enough obsidian from the trades to make an entirely new portal. Chances are it would just save George the long trip back and his time down by teleporting him to the same place. The boy shrugged, thinking to himself that there was no reason not to.

Grabbing the onyx rock, George began to stack the brittle glass into the shape of a rectangle. When the new portal was finished, George bent down to the structure and struck a chunk of iron onto the flint to create a spark. In a burst of magnificent violet, the new portal stood tall as particles of light called for George to step in. Complying with the mesmerizing force, George prepared to go back to a more familiar land.

When George felt his stomach drop, he knew he had made it back and stepped out. Looking around at his surroundings, the adventurer’s brows furrowed with an immense confusion and disorientation. 

_ It’s snowing _ . George knew for a fact that his portal was originally in a desert, so how there was currently an arctic tundra covering the vast expanse was beyond him. Tossing his weapons and shield down to ruffle through his bag, the brunette pulled out his map. This place looked familiar, but it was definitely not where his original portal was. The boy scanned the aged cream paper for his location, and his eyes went wide. Not only was he  _ not _ at his original portal, he was tens of kilometers away. 

It would have taken George almost two days to get to this biome from the desert, but it only took him a few hours in the Nether to travel…. Putting two and two together, the boy quickly realized how much distance he was able to cover by traveling in the Nether. Gears in George’s head began to turn, and scrambling to grab the diamonds he was saving, George crafted a new diamond pickaxe. It felt like a lightbulb went off in his mind, and he suddenly felt reinvigorated. Going through the portal again, George began to deconstruct the portal he just made to collect more bits of obsidian. When he finished, he flipped his map to the back and began to attempt to calculate how much distance in the Nether would have been traveled between the two portals with a piece of coal as a pencil. He knew his math must be off because of his crude estimate, but it must have been about ten blocks for every one block in the Overworld.

Armed with this new bit of information, George was determined to set out for his original goal. It was stupid and dangerous, but George was stubborn. He was going to go to the mansion,  _ then _ defeat the dragon. He’d spent too much time to let some  _ hunter _ get in the way of what he’s been working towards for years now. George was going to win, and he was going to do it his way. 

Recalling his path to his original portal in the Nether, the starry eyed boy began to calculate where and how far he would need to travel to end up at the mansion marked on his map. When he got a rough estimate of the direction and distance needed, he set off, optimistic about the future.

* * *

_ How… interesting.  _

Dream was well aware that George was different from his past prey, but looking down at the gruesome burn marks where his clothing was stuck to his flesh was more than enough proof that this little lamb was dangerous.

Patching himself up had been a bitch, but he had to admit that the scars and lesions that were embedded into his skin like patchwork gave him a thrill. The thought that George’s little antics will be forever carved into his skin sent a shiver down his spine.  _ Now he will always be a part of me,  _ Dream thought, smiling. 

After Dream covered all the wounds in antiseptic solution and gauze, he pulled out his trusty compass from his pants to check if George had left the Nether yet, and to his surprise, the compass was still unwavering.

_ He sure is taking his sweet time,  _ Dream thought to himself as he rolled his eyes in annoyance. Sure, a Nether showdown would be fun. Dream knew every inch of the Nether, but he also knew that he couldn’t get very far without being able to actually see the direction George had gone inside. He would just have to play the patient waiting game to continue their game, and Dream had learned to be a  _ very _ patient hunter. 

In the meantime, Dream began to strike up a devious plot to stop the other boy from ever making it to The End. While waiting for previous prey after killing his marks, Dream had made sure to learn every square inch of the word, and had taken on the extra effort of blocking every portal room within every human distance in as much obsidian as possible…. All except one. If George wanted to beat the world, he would first need to find the right portal location, and at that point, Dream would already be waiting at the entrance. Well… that’s assuming he even makes it far enough to get to the room… Dream hoped that George wouldn’t be predictable enough to get killed right before entering the final stretch, but he would just have to wait and see how this game would unfold. 


	9. The Minor Lift

When George made it to the estimated location of the Woodland Mansion, he quickly assembled the new portal before eagerly jumping through it. If his calculations were close enough, he wouldn’t even need to walk for an hour before landing at the mansion.

Squeezing his eyes shut and whispering small c _ ome on, come on, come ons, _ the brunette put all his energy in hoping that he was right about fast traveling in the Nether. 

When he was through the portal, he opened his eyes slowly and searched his surroundings. Dark oak. Rich chocolate colored bark filled his vision, and he felt himself tear up. Thick droplets of tears dripped down his cheeks as his lip quivered with an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time.  _ Gratitude and relief.  _

Years,  _ years _ of working to make it to the mansion finally paid off. All the frustration, fear, and pitfalls he had faced through his journey finally bubbled over, and George let his guard down for the first time in weeks. He let himself collapse into the plush emerald grass, burying his face in his hands as he sobbed lightly. 

He hadn’t had time to even stop for a second and think about himself for the longest time. Constantly running for fear of his life for the past few days caused George to neglect his mental state, which was begging for a break.  _ Why me? _ George had thought to himself, a pang of betrayal in his heart.  _ What fucked up thing did I do in my past to deserve such hell? _ He dug his nails into the cool dirt in frustration.  _ Dream…. Who are you? _

Shaking off the pent up emotions, George let out a shaky breath as he relaxed himself, letting all his worries leave him through his exhale.  _ No… not now. I’ve come too far. This is no time to break down, George. This is a victory. This is my victory. This is all I’ve wanted for years, and I’ve finally found it. This is the one thing Dream can never take away from me. I’ve earned this, and he can’t take that away from me.  _

Gripping the scabbard of his sword with a sense of purpose and determination, George wiped the tears onto his leather arm guard and pulled himself together. The adventurer looked forward with a fire in his eyes, something that he had almost lost to the fear and intimidation he felt with the appearance of Dream. George was no longer going to run. He was going to make this  _ his _ world. The boy puffed his chest out, and if anyone were there to witness it, they would have sworn a flicker of bright yellow flickered in George’s irises. 

Navigating through the thick forest, George traced his pathing on his map and set his way into the unknown. Although weaving through the thick chocolate brown trees was tedious, George felt safe for the first time in a while. Dream probably thought George was headed to a stronghold at the moment to finish the game; there was no way the hunter anticipated the adventurer would have taken such an ambitious pitstop.

Lost in his thoughts, George mindlessly went down the invisible path to the Mansion, passing each tree while dragging his fingertips to feel each rough etch of bark. Before long, the boy heard the crackle of a fire. Stopping dead in his tracks at the new sound, he felt panic rise in his throat again, images of his first encounter with Dream flashing through his mind like a horrible slideshow. Shaking instinctively with wide eyes, George forced himself to swallow down his fear. 

_ I won’t let him control me like this. This is my body. Get it together. _

Going up against a tree to lean his back against, George peaked around the corner to see if there was any creature or person in the nearby area. To his surprise, the area was vacant, save for the freshly lit campfire left abandoned. Clenching his jaw, George carefully and slowly sneaked from tree to tree to get closer. At a certain point, the cobblestone and wood roof of the Woodland Mansion peaked up from the dense greenery. The boy almost fell back at how awe-struck he was at the sight. Out of all his imaginations of the structure, he never expected it to be so expansive and complex. 

Making his way over to the entrance of the structure, George peaked inside with the curiosity of a kitten.  _ It seems a little too quiet… _ he thought to himself, tip toeing in to avoid any noise and detection of possible creatures. Looking from side to side, the nervous boy walked down the expansive hallway. He was having a hard time being alert when he was trying to admire the details of the building.

_ Finally, some other intelligent life. Maybe I can talk to them? Maybe not though… considering the amount of adventurers that are only now whispers of existence…  _

Suddenly snapped out of his thoughts, George felt something grab his leather bag and pull him back, knocking the wind out of him in surprise. 


	10. Trouble Brews Silently

Struggling, George grunted, trying to escape the grasp of the shadowy figure. When he felt a sharp edge of an axe held to his jugular he froze.  _ Dream? How did he find me?! _ The brown haired boy let his instincts take over, using his forearm to slide between the hilt of the axe and his throat to push the weapon away before using his other hand to elbow into the gut of the person. He felt the stitches in his shoulder throb at the sudden movement, but he ignored the pain. Whipping around to see the figure, George was surprised to see that it wasn’t Dream standing there.  _ It was… a villager? A pillager? No… a mix? _ Whatever it was, it was  _ not _ happy that George was in their house, and judging by the other mob standing directly behind the axe wielding creature, there were more of them.

“Wait, I was just- I don’t want to fight,” George tried, raising his hands defensively. The standing figure only let out a loud yell of a language which was unfamiliar to the adventurer before the weapon wielding creature came charging toward him, axe ready to swing. The figure furthest away raised it’s hand in the air as smoke wisped from it’s hands. 

The boy wasn’t able to get a good enough look at the magician, as he was too preoccupied with the mob about to kill him with an axe. Holding onto the grip of his sword, the boy waited until the last second to unsheathe it. One second too early and the mob would have dodged the attack, but one second too late and his head would be rolling on the floor.

When he felt the moment was right, George held out his sword as the creature ran straight down the blade. Wincing as he pulled out his blood soaked sword, the boy watched as the hostile mob dropped to the ground, gripping it’s chest as blood spilled around it’s fingertips, dripping down in long crimson ribbons and twisting around it’s forearm. 

Before George could run away, he heard the hiss of a noise akin to a small explosion. Looking up, the fighter saw that there were now sword wielding ghosts chasing after him.

_A summoner?_ _Fuck._ George thought to himself, trying to get swings in on the small creatures. When one of his swings landed on the ghost-type figures, it disintegrated into the air, but there were still at least three more coming towards him. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to take on all of them at once, especially if the summoner could continuously and infinitely summon them. _I’ll have to kill the main guy..._

Throwing down his bag, George tried to quickly unstrap his bow and arrows, but he wasn’t quick enough. One of the ghosts slashed, part of the impact was stopped by the iron armor covering his chest and back, but it was able to slice through the thinner leather of his side. 

_ Holy shit, why do they swing so hard,  _ George thought as he ground his teeth down to try and fight through the pain. Finally loading up his bow, the boy aimed at the summoner while trying to avoid the hits from the ghosts. He let out a slow breath, releasing the string and listened to the thwip of his shot shoot through the air. The arrow landed into the bottom of the creature’s chest, possibly rupturing a lung judging by the cough the summoner let out. It wasn’t enough to kill or stop the mob judging by the fact that the swirl of white and grey smoke only grew in size as more of the ghosts were summoned. Switching to his sword for a brief second, George tried to clear out some of the other creatures before their numbers became too overwhelming. When there were only two left, George decided it was now or never. Waiting until all of the ghosts were far enough away, the boy quickly loaded another arrow into his bow, aiming it again.

_ Please for the love of everything, don’t miss.  _ Letting go once more, he watched as the arrow practically shot in slow motion to pierce straight into the summoner’s neck. With wide eyes, the fantastical smoke show stopped as the creature shot its hands up to its neck to try and stop the bleeding. It was no use however, and both George and the creature knew that. Still trying to dodge the attacks of the remaining ghosts, the boy considered his next course of action. As if on queue, the footsteps hammering through the halls began to crescendo, and George knew that it wouldn’t be long before he would have more company. 

He had come too far to die here now or to leave with no answers about this mysterious mansion. Debating in his brain on whether it was worth it or not, the dark brown eyed boy decided  _ fuck it _ . Running over to the summoner and kneeling down to the dying creature, George began to scramble to search through it’s coat. Feeling through the pockets while his heart was beating through his mouth from anxiety, the boy just grabbed whatever he could, not bothering to study or even look at the loot he grabbed. Stuffing the few items into his bag, George almost tripped over himself as he started to run down the hall opposite to the sound of the stomping footsteps and ghosts still chasing after him. 


	11. Caged Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check over the tags again as they have now been updated.

Sprinting through the cramped halls, George attempted to find some place to hide. It felt as if he was running in slow motion while the walls were quickly closing in to suffocate the adventurer. His feet felt like there were a thousand pound weights dragging him down, and he was sinking into the dark oak floor. Ignoring the pain blooming throughout his body from the various cuts, George ran up a set of stairs and looked from side to side quickly, frantically wondering what to do next. 

Starting up again, the boy began to run down the new hallway, looking from left to right at every room and door to see where he could hide a little to catch his breath. Currently, his head was pounding and his heart felt like it was about to lurch out his throat from how hard he was running. If he didn’t stop soon, he would probably vomit what little he’s eaten. 

When the brunette came to a sharp left turn, he took it, almost running past a small narrow hallway with only one door to the end of it. The hallway was so small only one person could possibly fit down it at a time, and George decided it was now or nowhere. Taking a sharp left, the boy slipped slightly on the wood floor from the momentum of changing his course so suddenly, scrambling with his feet to stay balanced as he fell into the hallway. In the distance, he could hear the foreign shouting and loud stomping of the creatures, and quickly pulled out his axe. Swinging into the oak walls, George tore away some of the existing wood paneling of the small hallway and set it up in the entrance so that it was flush against the wall. If someone was running past, they wouldn’t even blink twice at the now missing hallway, and would run right past. Even if the creatures noticed something was different, they wouldn’t realize it so soon, and it would buy George enough time to plot an escape. 

Hands shaking as he set the paneling up-right, he heard the footsteps grow louder. When he heard them run past him, he let out an audible exhale, walking down the hall to the one door.  _ Hopefully there’s a window I can jump out of in here,  _ he thought to himself, finally regaining his breath. 

Opening the door quietly to the room, George walked into the gigantic bedroom, littered with different ornaments on dusty bookshelves. Amazed by the room, the boy was surprised to find how cozy and lived-in the space was. It was clear someone had been occupying this space for some time now and was calling it home. Walking up to a large bookshelf, George got caught up in the items and completely forgot about the threat outside for a while. The random items littered throughout were strange. It was clear whoever lived here treasured some of the items more than others, as the dust pattern on the shelf looked regularly disturbed for some of them. A small roundish object even looked to be missing, as there was a circle of rich dark oak next to the muted, grey of the dusty oak surrounding it.

Moving, his eyes landed on the skull sitting mysteriously on the shelf. He looked at the skull and felt repulsed, jumping back at the ivory bone. He didn’t know where it was from, but he didn’t really want to know either. All he knew was that something about it felt wrong.  _ Shattered glass? What’s so special about that? _ George wondered, picking up a piece before dropping it back down on the wood with a small  _ clink. _ He looked around the room, getting lost in the various items littered everywhere. On the side of the large king sized bed rested a nightstand which interested George for some reason. Walking over, the boy opened the wood cabinet with rusted over hardware, causing a quiet squeak as he pulled it open. Inside it rested a journal, sitting in the center alone, ominously. Picking it up, he flipped open to the first page.

> _ Day 1 _
> 
> _ Dream and I had finally set up a base, or as he likes to call it, a dirt hut. Whatever that means. _

Eyes going wide, George finally realized the importance of what he had just stumbled upon. Breath hitching, the boy flipped through the book with shaking hands, adrenaline from the excitement and anticipation causing him to flip through the pages frantically.  _ Why is this here, _ George thought to himself, thoughts too scrambled to come up with an explanation currently.

> _ Day 235 _
> 
> _ We just got out of the Nether… well, barely… Even though we had been enjoying our time in the overworld, we knew that we would eventually need to make some progress in defeating the game, so we decided to go, but I don’t think we spent our days preparing at our base well enough. We had been living the life of builders and adventurers for quite some time and we forgot that there were other beings besides the brainless overworld mobs. Dream patched us up back there, but I’ll never forget the fear in his eyes as he watched the blood spill from me. He said, “don’t ever fucking scare me like that again, George.” _

George’s eyes stopped on the page. He reread the line over again, making sure he read it correctly, and then reread it again, and then the passage, and then the entire page. There was no mistaking it. That was his name on the page.


End file.
